


Clay Imagines: SFW

by robinwritesallthethings



Series: Jeffrey Dean Morgan Characters [2]
Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Assassination, F/M, Holidays, Making Out, Military, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Relationships: Franklin Clay/Reader
Series: Jeffrey Dean Morgan Characters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933015
Kudos: 13





	1. Imagine inadvertently helping Clay and his team take down the bad guy they’re after.

You absentmindedly stare at your phone as you exit the coffee shop, automatically holding the door open for the man entering. He pauses, so you stop without thinking. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says.

The words are perfectly polite, but there’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like. Then he reaches out and rubs a strand of your hair between his fingers. He’s wearing a leather glove. Suddenly all of your instincts are screaming at you to run, but you’re frozen. 

His hand begins to drop to your neck. 

You draw in a breath as glass shatters and the man crumples to the ground. 

At the same time, someone grabs you, swinging you around so you smack against his chest. “Hang on!” he shouts.

You fist your hands into his white dress shirt as he lifts you by the waist with one arm and drags you away from the commotion. 

When he sets you down, his fingers immediately start probing your neck. You stay silent. 

“Did he touch you?” he asks urgently. “Did you feel anything stick you?” 

You shake your head reflexively. “No. He touched my hair,” you remember. 

“You should be fine, but you’re coming with me so we can check you out. Best to be safe.”

He’s staring at you like he’s waiting for something. 

You glance back at the sidewalk and realize that the man is dead. There’s blood everywhere. When you look down and realize that some of it splattered on you, you start to cry. 

“There it is,” your rescuer observes, gently pulling you into his arms and cradling your head in one of his large hands. “It’s okay to freak out, sweetheart. I’m sorry we had to do that, but I’m also grateful. You gave my guy the shot he needed.” 

You just keep sobbing into his chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he promises. 

You don’t know why, but you believe him.


	2. Imagine cooking a big Christmas dinner for Clay and The Losers because they’re stuck away from their families during the holidays.

The morning begins rather sullenly because everyone is sad to be stuck away from their families during the holidays. This should have been a quick meeting to plan the first missions of next year, but an impromptu snowstorm changed that. You and Clay had originally intended to spend a cozy day together, but you decided to make a big traditional Christmas dinner for everyone instead. 

Clay even managed to get a tree and presents on short notice. He’s not exactly the shopping kind of guy, but his skill set makes him surprisingly adept at getting through the holiday crowds. 

Now, everyone’s cheered up after a few drinks. Jensen is reciting the history of the turkey, Pooch is explaining the exact engineering required to make Santa’s sleigh a reality, and Cougar is trying to decide what size bullets he would need in order to hollow out a cranberry at a variety of distances. 

Once everyone is more jovial, Clay joins you in the kitchen to help with the cooking. He’s dicing vegetables while you baste the turkey. When you finish, you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his warm, strong back. 

“Woman, you know better than to sneak up on me like that,” he teases, turning and gathering you up in his arms. “I have amazing reflexes.”

He winks as you laugh and lean up to kiss him. “I know. I’m hoping you’ll use some of them on me later.”

He raises his eyebrows and lifts you up off of the floor, roughly kissing your neck as you giggle. When he sets you back down, he gently nuzzles your cheek, kissing it tenderly. “Thanks for doing this for the guys,” he murmurs. “I know I promised you it would just be us.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “Though I won’t complain if you want to make it up to me.” 

He grins wickedly. “Oh, I will,” he promises. “I stashed your… private presents under the bed.” 

You lean up and indulge in one more kiss, letting your lips linger, savoring the feel and taste of him. It’s not often that he’s home for this long. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

His hands stroke your hair as he deepens the kiss. 

“Merry Christmas, Clay.”


	3. Imagine Clay being jealous when you flirt with another man.

“And how is my favorite patient?” your doctor asks as he walks into the room. “Looking beautiful as ever today, I see.” 

You blush and rub your belly. “Thank you,” you murmur, clearly flattered. 

Clay clears his throat next to you, looking a little put out. You’re not sure why. It’s not like you’re together or anything. You had a one-night stand and he knocked you up. According to him, the only honorable thing to do is support you and be involved. 

Which is fine. You don’t mind. And you like Clay. A lot, actually. But he’s made it very clear that he does not want a relationship. 

So when your hot doctor flirts with you, you’re going to flirt back. 

“All right, let’s take a look in there and see if we can find the prize,” the hot doctor jokes. “How are your breasts feeling?” 

Clay’s eyes get wide at your conversation, and he doesn’t miss the way the doctor’s hand lingers on your belly when he lifts up your shirt. 

“Um, hi? Can you lay off of the mother of my child, please?” Clay snaps.

He’s not amused, and the doctor is obviously intimidated and doesn’t know what to say. You ask him to give you a minute and he leaves you alone with Clay again. 

“What’s going on with you, Clay? I’m supposed to be the moody one.” 

He crosses his arms. “Why the fuck is he all over you?” he demands to know. 

You shrug. “He knows I’m single and thinks I’m hot. I’m pregnant and horny and I have no significant other, Clay. Not to mention that it’s hard to find a man who’s okay with me having another man’s baby.” 

“I don’t want you to be with another man,” he admits grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You sit up, pulling your shirt down over your belly and frowning at him. “You don’t get to decide that if you don’t want me,” you point out quietly. “And you were pretty clear about what you wanted when I told you I was pregnant.” 

Clay worries his lower lip for a moment and then sighs. He uncrosses his arms, rests his forehead against your shoulder, and puts his hand gently over your belly. 

“What if what I want has changed?” he wonders softly. “Is it too late?” 

Your chest tightens and you start to cry, reaching out to cup his cheek. “If what you want has changed, then I don’t need anyone else, Clay.” 

He wraps his free arm around you and holds you tightly. You’re finally a family.


	4. Imagine working with Clay on the Fourth of July.

Clay pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Why did you put fireworks next to the bomb?” he asks tiredly. 

You shrug. “I wanted it to be pretty.” 

“It was supposed to be subtle!” he argues in exasperation. 

“Clay, it’s the Fourth of July!” you whine. “If you’re going to make me blow up a weapons depot on what was supposed to be my day off, you have to give me a little leeway.” 

Clay rolls his eyes. “You could have said no,” he points out. 

You snort. “Right. And let you try to do it by yourself?” 

“I could have done it,” he mumbles. Another huge firework explodes in the sky, giving off wild sparks of red, white, and blue, and he shakes his head. “I could have done it better than this.” 

You bat your eyes at him. “Oops, officer,” you say sultrily, playing with the low neckline of Clay’s half-unbuttoned shirt. “I had no idea there was a weapons depot here. I just set off some fireworks. What a silly accident.” 

Clay can’t help himself. He grins and his shoulders start to shake with laughter. You giggle along with him. 

“There is no way in the world that anyone would fall for that,” Clay protests. “You’re not that cute.” 

You huff. “I am totally that cute, jerk!”

You punch his bicep and he slumps dramatically. “Ow,” he pouts playfully. 

You huff again and start to pull away, but Clay drags you closer. “What do you want me to do about it?” you wonder accusingly.

Why does he always tease you like this? 

His long fingers stroke your hair away from your cheek and he smiles softly. “Kiss it better?” he suggests. 

You stare at him dumbly until he tugs your lips down to his and starts to kiss you. 

“I thought your arm was hurt, not your mouth,” you mumble awkwardly. 

“It works everywhere as long as we’re kissing,” Clay explains. “Now shut up and heal me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you reply, clinging to him. 

“Good girl,” Clay praises you. 

You shiver. As he turns and presses you against a warehouse wall, you decide that you’re very glad you came to work today.


	5. Imagine being kidnapped by Max and used as leverage against Clay.

“Nothing is going to stop me from killing you, Max.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you hear Clay's low, gravelly voice. You knew he'd come for you. 

You have no idea what this man Max wants, but you knew it had to have something to do with Clay and his team. You're the only outsider who knows everything about them. Contacts, resources, safe houses. 

“Really, Clay?” Max drawls. “Nothing? I beg to differ.” 

You feel the chair you're tied to being dragged to the side. Clay growls and you hear his knuckles crack as his fists clench. “How did you find her?” he whispers. 

He sounds afraid. He's told you over and over again that the only thing he's afraid of is losing you. 

You can't explain how Max found you. You'd taken every precaution Clay had ever taught you. You've been doing it for months now. It's always worked before. 

“It's not that hard when you have a reach like mine, Clay. It's funny. I thought maybe you were the one man in the world with no ties to anyone. I thought nothing mattered to you. But she obviously does.” 

“I'm going to rip you apart with my bare hands,” Clay promises fiercely. “Let her go.” 

“Now where's the fun in that?” Max yanks the black bag off of your head and you blink against the light, finally managing to look up at Clay. 

“It's going to be okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

You nod. There's tape over your mouth, so you can't say anything, but he understands how much you trust him. 

“Let's see how much she can take,” Max suggests cheerily. He tips your chin up with a gloved finger, glancing from your face to Clay's. “How much do you think she'll try to endure to keep you from being hurt?” 

“You're not going to hurt her. Hurt me all you want. Just let her go.” 

It's not like Clay to bargain. You realize that he's stalling for time. 

Max realizes it too. “If you're waiting for your team, I wouldn't, Clay. There's no way they're getting around my army.” 

Suddenly, a bird call echoes outside. Clay's lips quirk up in his trademark smirk. “Is that so?” 

What happens next happens fast. The team bursts into the room, Max tries to run, and your chair falls over. 

Then Clay is there, carefully untying you and pulling you into his arms before gently removing the tape from your mouth. You take a deep breath and then he's kissing you. 

“I'm here, sweetheart. It's all right.” He cradles you against his chest. “Nothing is ever going to hurt you again, I swear.” 

His heart is beating fast. You reach up and touch his face, smiling at him. 

“I knew you'd come for me, Clay,” you assure him. It's what he needs to hear to calm down. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he agrees. “Always.”


	6. Imagine Clay being surprised that you have a closet full of C-4.

“Where is my other shirt?” Clay wonders, wandering into the kitchen.

He's appropriately shirtless, considering what he's looking for. 

“You mean the one that looks exactly the same as the one I tore the buttons off of last night?” you tease, moving over to pull his head down for a kiss. “You look good without one,” you assure him. 

He snorts. “Tell the guys that when they get here...” 

He heads out into the hallway to search the laundry room. Then you hear doors start to bang open as he mutters to himself in frustration. 

You follow the noise, grimacing when you notice him going for the last closet at the end of the hall. “There's nothing in...” you start, but he's already looking inside. 

He pauses, then peeks out from behind the door. He takes in your raised eyebrows and apologetic expression before glancing back into the closet. 

Then he turns his head to you again and asks, “Why do you have a closet full of C-4?” 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Why don't you?” 

He starts to laugh, then hugs you. “I love you, you know that?”

He nips at your ear and you giggle. “Feel free to borrow any if you need it,” you offer slyly. 

“Borrow? I have to replace it?” 

“Of course you do! Do you know how hard it is to keep my stock up?” 

“Blowing up a lot of stuff, are you?” 

“You never know.” 

“What if I bring you other fun things in exchange?” 

You tangle your fingers in his dark chest hair and grin. “I could be amenable to that.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows. “What about sex?” 

You shake your head firmly. “No! If I held out, you'd be begging for it eventually. Not a fair trade.” 

He chuckles. “Okay, okay.” 

There's a knock on the front door and Clay frowns, looking down at himself. 

“I'll get it,” you assure him. “I think another one of your shirts is under the bed.” 

“Thank you, babe.”

He gives you another kiss, then heads off to retrieve it. 

You make sure the closet is shut before going to answer the door. No one else needs to know about your secret stash just yet.


End file.
